Page 99 of Roguefinder

He dragged in a breath and released it. Then another. Some of the tension eased from his muscles. “Okay.”

“Good boy.” I pressed a quick, hard kiss to his forehead. “Help me search him.” Maybe it was a bad idea, but giving him a task was hopefully better than letting him sit still and think about what he’d just done.

We went through the man’s jacket pockets, withdrawing a phone, plastic hotel keys, and a wallet stuffed with euros and credit cards. I turned over a little white card printed with the name of a gentlemen’s club.

“Passport,” Caleb said, handing it over.

I flipped it open. “Pyotr Zarins. He’s Latvian.”

“I guess that explains the accent,” Caleb said weakly. He stared at the body, his freckles dark against his pale skin.

“Search his pants,” I said, flipping up Pyotr’s suit jacket. When I pulled out a small blue vial, Caleb gasped.

“I saw that in Carlo’s office.”

“Are you sure?” The vial was glass, no larger than my thumb, and stoppered with a cork. The brown liquid inside glowed faintly even in the predawn light.

“Yeah. He had a row of them on a shelf behind his desk.” Caleb looked from the vial to me. “It’s the same bottle. I’m sure of it.”

I worked the cork free and held the vial to my nose.

My wolf recoiled so hard I nearly dropped it. Rotten fruit and madness. Ulfrik’s scent: concentrated and undiluted, as if someone had bottled the man himself.

“It’s Ulfrik’s blood,” I said, forcing the cork back in.

Pyotr’s pockets turned up a second vial, empty except for a ring of blood crusted around the rim.

I pocketed both vials and stood, pulling Caleb up with me.

His gaze drifted over Pyotr, and he swallowed thickly.

“It’s all right,” I said, turning him away from the body. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?”

“Okay.” He swallowed again. “It’s just… I’ve never… I killed⁠—”

“You’re okay.” I took his elbow and guided him a few steps away, scanning the walls and river as I went. The embankment was deserted, but the sun was coming up. I couldn’t count on the cold to keep humans away for long.

“I have to call Stefanos,” I said. “The Council has resources everywhere. They’ll help us dispose of the body.”

“Right.” Caleb nodded too many times. “Right.”

Fucking Carlo. My wolf paced in my head, eager to storm the opera house and tear the place apart until I got answers. Because that blood had come from Carlo’s shelf, and somehow it had let a human wear Ulfrik’s body like a costume. How? Had Pyotr been able to take wolf form, too? How many more vials were out there in how many more pockets?

Did the Council know?

But I couldn’t walk into a master vampire’s stronghold unprepared. Caleb was barely holding himself together, and we had a dead body on the ground in the middle of Rome. Whatever my misgivings about Stefanos and the Council, they were my sole option at the moment.

“What about Emile?” Caleb asked.

I pulled out my phone. “I’ll have Stefanos send a car.”

Something sharp pierced the side of my neck.

I slapped my hand against it, and pain seared my fingers. Smoke rolled off my skin. I wrenched the object free and flung it away. A silver dart bounced over the ground. Weakness gushed down my arms and legs. Blisters spread over my hands and up my arms.

Silver. In my bloodstream. Everywhere.

“Run, Caleb!” I barked.